Today marks 40 years since the death of Giulio Cortazarone of the most recognized authors of his time, master of short stories and poems.
His lyrics transcend time and, given their length, are ideal for posting on social networks or sending via WhatsApp. Here, a selection of his best poems.
The best short poems by Julio Cortázar
In the tobacco, in the coffee, in the wine, / on the edge of the night they rise / like those voices that sing far away / without knowing what, along the road.
Light brothers of destiny, / dioscuros, pale shadows, they scare me / the flies of habits, they keep me / to stay afloat amidst so much vortex.
The dead speak more but in the ear,/and the living are a warm hand and a roof,/sum of what is gained and what is lost.
So one day in the boat of the shadow, / from so much absence my chest will repair / this ancient tenderness that names them.
2) THE COVER
The one who leaves his country because he is afraid,/he doesn’t know what,/afraid of the cheese with the mouse,/of the rope among madmen,/of the foam in the soup.
Then he wants to change like a figurine,/the hair that was previously tied/with gel and mirror, he loosens it,/he opens his shirt, changing his costumes,/his wine, his language.
Unfortunately, he notices that he is shooting better, and is sleeping soundly.
He even changes his style, / and has friends who don’t know his provincial history, / ridiculous and homely…
3) LOST ITEMS
Through sleepy paths and deaf rooms/your exhausted summers speed me up with their songs/A watchful and furtive figure/goes through the suburbs calling me and calling me/but what’s missing, tell me, on the tiny card/where your name, your road and your insomnia/if the figure mixes with the letters of the dream,/if you are alone where I no longer look for you.
4) A LOVE LETTER
All I want from you/is so little in the end/because in the end it’s everything
like a passing dog, a hill,/those nothings, everyday things,/ear of corn and hair and two clods,/the smell of your body,/what you say about anything,/with me or against me,
All this is so little/I want it from you because I love you.
That you look beyond me, / that you love me with violent contempt / of tomorrow, that the cry / of your dedication breaks / in the face of an office manager,
and that the pleasure we invent together is another sign of freedom.
5) THIS CUTEESS
This tenderness and these free hands, / to whom should you give them under the wind? Lots of laughter/for the fox, and in the middle the reminder/anxiety of that door open to no one.
We made bread so white/for already dead mouths that accepted/only a fang of the moon, iced tea from the candle at dawn.
We play instruments for blind rage/for shadows and forgotten hats. We remained
of shadows and forgotten hats. We were left with the presents laid out on a useless table, / and it was necessary to drink hot cider / in the shame of midnight.
So no one wants it, no one?
Tonight my hands are black, my heart is sweaty/like after fighting smoke centipedes to oblivion.
Everything remained there, the bottles, the boat, / I don’t know if they loved me and if they expected to see me.
In the diary lying on the bed we read diplomatic meetings, / an exploratory bloodletting happily beat him in four sets.
A mighty forest surrounds this house in the center of town, / I know, I hear a blind man is dying nearby.
My wife goes up and down a small staircase / like a ship captain who distrusts the stars…
Mary Ortiz is a seasoned journalist with a passion for world events. As a writer for News Rebeat, she brings a fresh perspective to the latest global happenings and provides in-depth coverage that offers a deeper understanding of the world around us.